


Omelette

by mansikka



Series: Omelette [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dare, Fluff, M/M, Sam Ships It, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dean. I am millennia-old. Do you honestly believe that just because I haven’t done something for myself, I would not already know how to do it?”</p><p>Cas studies Dean’s face in that way he does when Dean knows he’s being an idiot but just keeps talking, and waits.</p><p>“Uh…” Dean manages, feeling lost for any kind of meaningful words.</p><p>“Yeah, Dean,” Sam pipes up next to him, grinning at Dean’s discomfort. Sam’s smirk drops instantly when Cas’ gaze turns shrewdly to him, as though Sam is being equally stupid.</p><p>“Knowing the theory isn’t actually the same as… you know. Doing it,” Dean finally offers a little helplessly as Cas turns back to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omelette

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)
> 
> This is something I wrote to, um, amuse myself. And therefore is very silly... just so you know. 
> 
> :)
> 
> x

“Dean. I am millennia-old. Do you honestly believe that just because I haven’t done something for myself, I would not already know how to do it?”

Cas studies Dean’s face in that way he does when Dean knows he’s being an idiot but just keeps talking, and waits.

“Uh…” Dean manages, feeling lost for any kind of meaningful words.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam pipes up next to him, grinning at Dean’s discomfort. Sam’s smirk drops instantly when Cas’ gaze turns shrewdly to him, as though Sam is being equally stupid.

“Knowing the theory isn’t actually the same as… you know. Doing it,” Dean finally offers a little helplessly as Cas turns back to him.

Dean looks longingly towards the doorway of the kitchen, to safety and escape.

He’s not going to get away from this that easily though, he knows that. He is going to have this out with Sam later, though, that much is for sure. How dare he bring up something like this, when he knows… he  _ knows  _ Sam knows… about… well.  _ Things  _ .

“Well,” Sam relents after a minute, and Dean’s trying to concentrate on that, rather than the way his heart is attempting to leap out of his chest. “We’ve evidence, Cas. That… just ‘cos in theory you know  _ how  _ to do something? In practice, it doesn’t always work out.”

“Omelette,” Dean blurts out, and for a moment, all three of them frown in sync, staring down at a black mark on the floor.

Cas had been insistent. Obnoxiously so. And most indignant, when Sam and Dean hadn’t believed he’d be able to do something as ‘simple’ as make an omelette.

He’d raised an unamused eyebrow at both of them, shrugged out of both his trenchcoat and suit jacket in one fluid movement, and slowly rolled up his sleeves, all whilst Dean watched him open-mouthed like a man gaping at a beer after an exceptionally sober month. Discreetly, of course. Discreetly.

Dean continued watching Cas’ back as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands, dried them on kitchen towel like a pro, and then stalked over to the carton of eggs on the counter, bringing them back across to next to the stove. Dean swallowed roughly to see the pull of the shirt over Cas’ muscle and stood, transfixed.

Next, Cas walked over to the fridge, bending down in interest and giving Dean a very distracting view of the way his pants tightened over his ass. Dean couldn’t help staring, honestly he couldn’t, and Sam gave a delighted snort looking at his reaction. Dean grimaced uncomfortably at the look of comprehension on Sam’s face, shrinking back from the wickedness emitting from his brother and wanting to turn quickly on his heel, and leave. Sam had that effect on him a lot when it came to Cas, Dean reflected then.

But Sam and Dean’s attention was turned immediately to the bowl Cas clunked down noisily on the counter, and the way he threw in everything at once, before stirring the mixture vigorously and slopping it all over the sides.

Sure, in principle, the idea was good; eggs, cheese, and bacon were acceptable - essential, ingredients perhaps - for making an omelette.

But, as Dean walked up silently beside him, taking in the bits of shell floating on top of the mixture and the bacon fat sticking out like little white islands in a sea of yellow, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Even if Cas did spin on his heel and glare up at him in contempt.

The second attempt, when the first had been thrown with some force into the trashcan, fared slightly better to start with. But Cas couldn’t seem to get to grips with the pan, and even Sam, who had been strictly forbidden from doing anything more complicated than reheating, howled in laughter as Cas pushed stubbornly at the black mess that in a former life had once been eggs.

The third attempt, using up the very last of the eggs they had in the bunker, had resulted in that black mark on the floor that all three of them were currently glaring at, and Dean tactfully took a slight step to the side, covering the mark up with his foot.

“This is different,” Cas assures them with the most serious of expressions on his face.

“How is this different?” Sam laughs, feeling a little brave. This didn’t really impact him one way or another, after all.

Cas stares at Sam curiously, and somehow that makes Sam laugh more. “Because, Sam. The omelette… incident…” Cas glares at them both for a second, daring them to comment. They do not. “I had never considered making an omelette before. It was not something I had ever spent a lot of time thinking about.”

Dean straightens up from where he’s been slumped back against the counter, and his eyes narrow. “Wait,” he says, half-extending a hand towards Cas but stopping his fingers before they actually reach him. “You’ve been  _ thinking  _ about this? A lot?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas tells him with utmost certainty.

There is a look on Dean’s face that Sam instantly recognises as jealousy. He knows it and has known it all his life; usually when Dean thinks Sam’s got a better looking meal than him, it’s true. But still. He knows jealousy on Dean when he sees it, and finds himself smirking a little harder.

“With who?” Dean demands, stepping that touch closer, his voice tinged with bristling anger.

Cas’ face contorts, showing he’s really not sure what Dean’s problem is.

“I would have thought that would be obvious by now,” is all he can offer. Which Dean growls, actually growls at, and Sam barks out a peal of laughter at, earning himself another glare from Dean.

“So,” Sam eventually manages when he’s finished his gleeful laughter from the safe step back he’s taken away from Dean’s mood. “What you’re saying, Cas. Is that. Is that. Unlike the omelette thing. You’ve been  _ thinking  _ about doing this. A  _ lot  _ . So you know  _ exactly  _ what to do here.”

“Yes,” Cas gives him simply.

Sam shrugs. “Prove it.”

“Sam,” Dean blasts out, eyes full of rage for Sam and spinning around, fully turning his back to Cas.

His eyes drop the second he feels Cas’ hand on his shoulder, and raise back up again in shock as Cas is pushing him back against the counter with no gentleness at all.

“Uh…” is all he manages, before Cas is against him bodily and kissing him firmly on the mouth.

There is a moment, a tiny moment, when Dean registers Sam laughing hysterically beside them. But it is only a moment, because right now, in this moment, all he can think is  _ fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck _ . Cas is kissing him. He’s actually kissing him, willingly, very ably, he’d very much like to add, and from the feel of… yep, that feels a lot like, uh,  _ interest _ , he seems to be enjoying it just as much as he is.

Unconsciously, Dean’s arms curl around Cas’ lower back, pressing him that little bit more firmly against him, making Cas moan into his mouth in appreciation.

_ I’m gonna die happy _ , is the only thought Dean has, sagging under Cas’ weight.

Sam is doing all but cheering them on, resisting the urge to clap and forcing back the slight tears he’s feeling pricking in his eyes to see what he’s seeing before him.

Never in his wildest dreams would Sam have believed that what was a glib challenge to Cas about his kissing prowess would have led to  _ this _ . To seeing Dean, so utterly and thoroughly caught up in, well. Kissing Cas, like Sam damn well knew he’d been thinking about for an eternity. It made his little shipper heart sing, it really did.

Although.

Perhaps that level of enthusiasm was a little too much for his eyes, and oh  _ hell  _ he knows he just saw tongue.

Choking back the laughter that’s threatening to erupt yet again, Sam clears his throat; neither Cas nor Dean acknowledge him.

“So, uh…” he tries pathetically, knowing there’s no way he’s getting their attention any time soon.

“Uh… you can thank me later, Dean,” he manages to half-call out eventually.

Dean must be somewhat aware that Sam’s still standing there, because he slowly raises the hand he’s got wrapped hard around Cas up, flips him off, then slowly gives him the thumbs up Terminator 2-style, before putting his hand back firmly on Cas, a little lower this time.

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up to see that, and he thumbs a gesture over at the door, making a quick exit with an absent wave, averting his eyes as he goes.

  
  
  



End file.
